


A Witch Alone

by EnchantressEmily



Category: Widdershins (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Post-Canon, Queerplatonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 04:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20285227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnchantressEmily/pseuds/EnchantressEmily
Summary: Mal is struggling with the pressures of his new role, but as always, Wolfe is there for him.





	A Witch Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Curtain Call.
> 
> The title comes from the last lines of Wyrd Sisters by Terry Pratchett.

Wolfe strolled in through the gate leading to the Anchor, giving a friendly nod to the guards on duty at the information booth. They all knew him by now, and they no longer tried to get him to wait for one of the guided tours.

In the last month or two Mal had begun spending occasional days at the Anchor; Ben had tried to persuade him to choose a set day and time “so people will know when they can find you there”, but Mal had stubbornly refused. Instead, whenever the mood took him, he announced casually at breakfast that he would be going to the Anchor that day.

Ben grumbled that this made it even more difficult to schedule malform-catching jobs, but he didn’t try to stop Mal from going; he and Wolfe both understood that some part of Mal needed to be near his Anchor.

Wolfe, in his turn, always walked down in the late afternoon to meet Mal and accompany him home. His presence seemed to make the end-of-the-working-day crowds easier for Mal to bear, although he had never been sure why this was the case.

As Wolfe emerged on the lowest level of the great spiral of galleries surrounding the Anchor itself, he looked around for his friend. Sometimes Mal was behind his glowing blue door when Wolfe arrived, and sometimes he was leaning against the railing smoking a cigarette. At first Wolfe thought this day was one of the former kind; then he looked past the glass dome in the middle of the floor and saw the figure sitting huddled on the far side of the circular space, head down and arms wrapped tightly around updrawn knees.

“Mal!” Wolfe exclaimed in alarm, hurrying toward him. “What is wrong?”

Mal’s head came up, and he scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his glove. “Nothin’. ‘M fine.”

“No, you are not,” Wolfe said, extending a hand to pull him to his feet. “I may not see emotions as you do, but I know you very well, my friend. Is it your head?”

“Nah. Don’t get headaches in ‘ere, ‘cept if someone knocks on my door from inside.” Mal took a deep breath. “It’s – I don’t think I can explain proper.”

“Will you try, at least?” Wolfe asked. “I would like very much to help you.”

Mal looked away, his hands knotting together. “People’re startin’ t’ know I’m th’ witch,” he said after a long moment. “ ‘Member we had t’ tell th’ guards when I started comin’ ‘ere?”

Wolfe remembered very well. The guards had, understandably, been alarmed to find a disreputable-looking man suddenly haunting the Anchor, and it had taken all of Wolfe’s diplomacy and Ben’s scholarly explanations to convince them that Mal was indeed what he claimed to be.

“Do you think they are telling the people who come to see the Anchor?” he asked.

Mal nodded jerkily. “That rumor that ‘Arry’s th’ witch in’t goin’ round no more. People _notice_ me when they come in ‘ere. They don’t say nothin’, an’ th’ crowds don’t hurt like outside, but I can still feel them, an’ – an’ it’s like they’re pushin’ at me. All them spirits _wantin’_ things, wantin’ th’ witch t’ help them, an’ I _can’t_, I don’t know _how_, but they won’t stop _pushin’_ me – “ His voice was rising, spiraling into hysteria.

“Is a witch meant to do such things for people?” Wolfe asked, frowning.

“I don’t bloody _know!_ No one told me nothin’, an’ them other witches said in that note they’d come knockin’ soon, but they ‘aven’t, an’ I’m ‘ere wi’ everyone expectin’ me t’ know things ‘cause I bound th’ bloody Deadlies, but what’s a witch meant t’ _do_ when there in’t a crisis on? I – I can’t – “ His voice cracked.

Wolfe hesitated for a moment. After more than three years together he was well aware that Mal was skittish about physical affection beyond the occasional arm around his shoulders, but all his instincts told him that right now Mal needed to be held and comforted. He put his arm around his friend as he had done many times before; then, carefully, ready to draw back if Mal objected, he wrapped the other arm around him as well.

Mal went rigid, and for a moment Wolfe was afraid he had done the wrong thing; then Mal twisted within the embrace and buried his face in Wolfe’s chest, gripping his coat in both hands as if it was the only thing keeping him from dissolving. Wolfe could feel him trembling.

“_Sch, sch,_” Wolfe soothed, rubbing a hand up and down Mal’s bony back. “It will be well. All things are hard when they are new, yes? You have not even known that you are the witch for very long.”

Mal’s grip tightened on Wolfe’s lapels. “Y’know th’ worst thing?” he mumbled. “We used t’ talk about runnin’ away to France, but I can’t do nothin’ like that now, not permanent. Envy – it’s a git an’ all, but it was _right_. I’m stuck wi’ this forever.”

There was nothing Wolfe could say to that; from everything he had learned since the Deadly Sins incident, it was clear that a witch was tied to their Anchor with an unbreakable bond. For someone like Mal, who avoided responsibility as if it would burn him, this aspect of his powers must be terrifying. 

In place of words, Wolfe started humming one of the tunes that always seemed to calm Mal when he played it on his violin. 

Slowly, slowly, Mal’s taut body began to relax in his arms. His breathing grew more even, and he stopped shaking.

Wolfe continued humming softly, alert for any cue that Mal was ready to end the embrace. That Mal trusted him enough to let him do this in the first place – Mal, who trusted so few people, who wanted nothing to do with the intimacy of the bedroom – was something Wolfe found profoundly moving.

He was aware, at the back of his mind, of a guilty feeling of happiness. Of course he didn’t want Mal to be upset, but part of him – a larger part than he cared to admit – rejoiced at this proof that, powerful though the Witch of Widdershins might be, underneath that power, his Mal still needed him.

At length Mal straightened with a sigh, and Wolfe immediately released his hold. “Better now, my friend?” he asked.

Mal rubbed his face with both hands. “Mostly. Think mebbe next time I’ll jus’ go in there where no one can see me.” He gestured vaguely at the air in the middle of the circle, where his door usually appeared.

“That seems wise,” Wolfe agreed. “But we should go now, should we not? Ben will be wondering what has become of us.”

Mal was silent until they had left the Anchor and were walking up the street toward home. “Thanks, Wolfe,” he said suddenly.

“You are very welcome,” Wolfe answered, smiling. He paused. “Of course you know that you may always come to me when things become too much? I do not know what it is to be a witch, nor does Ben, but we can at least be your friends. You need not be entirely alone in this.”

Mal stiffened, his hands closing into fists at his sides.

“Mal, I am sorry,” Wolfe said quickly, reaching for him. “If I have said something wrong – “

“S’not you,” Mal muttered, turning his face away. “Jus’ – that’s what ‘Arry said. When Sloth had me. Said I didn’t ‘ave t’ face my problems alone.”

Wolfe gripped his friend’s shoulder. “We will get her back,” he said firmly. “I am sure of it.”

Mal took a shaky breath, and his hand came up to cover Wolfe’s briefly. “Yeah. Yeah, we will.” He glanced sideways, blue eyes meeting green for an instant, and managed a flicker of a smile. “Wolfe,” he said softly.

Somehow in that one name Wolfe could hear everything that Mal was unable or unwilling to put into words – all that they meant to each other, and all that his own actions just now had meant to Mal.

He smiled back and put his arm around Mal’s shoulders again. “Mal,” he said, knowing his friend would hear the same things in his voice.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic started with the image of Wolfe realizing that Mal needs a hug and Mal burying his face in Wolfe's chest. Then, of course, I had to figure out why Mal was so upset, and everything else developed from there.
> 
> We'll probably learn shortly that all of this bears no resemblance to canon, but oh well...


End file.
